


A Gentleman Will Not...

by ProblematicFave (PriestGuts)



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Humiliation, Other, Stuffing, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 02:45:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10800069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PriestGuts/pseuds/ProblematicFave
Summary: Commission for a friend who wanted Professor Layton overindulging





	A Gentleman Will Not...

**Author's Note:**

> A couple of you are probably wondering, what fandom is he NOT going to ruin? The question is none. I will corrupt everything that I touch.
> 
> I've never even heard of this fandom before writing this commission so I apologize for any OOC-ness.

A Gentleman does not overindulge, Professor Layton told himself as he set the table. Just a little bit of each would suffice. Fresh baked scones, strawberries with whipped cream, a plate of sandwiches and what was nearly a gallon of tea decorated the gloss wooden surface, covered of course by a table cloth. It would be a shame to get any stains or scratches on such a lovely finish. He even had all of the silverware laid out properly, not that you need much silverware other than a spoon when it comes to sandwiches and scones, but the table just wasn’t complete without it.

Sitting down, the Professor laid a napkin over his lap. Wouldn’t want to get that suit dirty. There was no need for unnecessary dry cleaning and wasted resources. He filled a small plate with a singular scone and a nice dollop of the strawberries and cream. Before even touching the food however, he poured himself a cup of tea, taking care not to get any droplets of liquid onto the table.

Thinking about it, Professor Layton left just a little bit of room in the tea cup to pour in just a touch of Bourbon. It had been a hard day and there was nothing wrong with just a little alcohol. As long as he didn’t overindulge it was fine. Into the cup also went two sugar cubes to curb the bitter taste of the darkened, earthy tea. A small sip to determine that it was much more to his liking, and Professor Layton delicately picked up his form to slide the side down into the scone, breaking off a bite sized piece which he found to be a tad dry by itself. This was quickly remedied by a scoop of cream which also served to sweeten up the quick bread. Much better. The slight bitterness from the baking soda was hidden beneath the airy texture of the cream and tartness of the strawberries.

Each bite of scone, cream and strawberries was followed by a sip of tea. So methodical in his consumption, Professor Layton didn’t even notice that his cup was drained and plate was empty until he went to take another sip, but found the porcelain chalice to be drained dry. A light flush rose to his cheeks. Another cup of tea wouldn’t hurt.

Another cup was poured, also containing the bourbon. The alcohol was aged and added an extra dimension of flavour. He didn’t see the harm in just a little more of it. There was nothing wrong with just a little bit of a buzz after a long day.

After the next cup was poured, the Professor made himself another plate, a couple of the small sandwiches this time. Soft bread with nice crispy vegetables was always the way to go. Satisfying and refreshing at the same time.

Once again, before he even noticed how much he was enjoying the food it was gone. And now, with a light flush across his cheeks from the alcohol, he could feel how truly hungry he was. Small portions and well placed manners just weren’t cutting it.

His stomach growled and he found himself trying to remedy the sound with a few more sandwiches, bread expanding once it hit his stomach. He didn’t notice how tight his vest was starting to become, nor how his stomach was now well past the outline of his ribs.   
He didn’t notice how the plate of sandwiches was nearly gone and how few scones there were left, how nearly half a gallon of tea was gone. He didn’t notice the tightness of his stomach and how taut his skin had become until he tried to lean over the table to get a couple sugar cubes for his tea and his stomach moved the table back a couple of inches.

Looking down, his cheeks flared a bright red, embarrassed, horrified and intrigued all at once at what he’d done to his own body. Beneath his shirts, his stomach was pulled taut, rounded out against his ribs with his belt digging ever so slightly into the underside of his poor abused belly.

“O-Oh my. Look at what you’ve done to yourself now, Hershel,” he hiccuped softly, all of the food that he’d consumed sitting heavily in his stomach. “You’ve made quite the find mess of yourself. A Gentleman would never overeat in such a manner. You should be ashamed of yourself.” Another soft hiccup between soft panting breaths as he leaned back to smooth a hand over his stomach. With everything finally settled, it was a little hard to breath. “You had just better be glad that you’re in the sanctity of your own home. How shameful for anyone to see you like this.”

 

And glad he was. Despite the humiliation he felt towards himself, he also couldn’t deny how good it felt to finally, truly be full. But maybe that was just the alcohol talking.

A Gentleman Does Not Overindulge.


End file.
